


Suantraí

by iwatobio



Category: Raven Cycle - Maggie Stiefvater
Genre: Character with PTSD, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Past Child Abuse, brief Gansey mention, brief Noah mention
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-05
Updated: 2015-08-05
Packaged: 2018-04-13 02:09:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 4,306
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4503819
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iwatobio/pseuds/iwatobio
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Adam has trouble coping with the aftermath of his father's abuse. Ronan uses his particular talents to help. Takes place at the end of the <i>Dream Thieves</i> or early parts of <i>Blue Lily, Lily Blue. </i></p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Nightmare

During a rare moment of dreamless sleep, Ronan felt something moving next to him. After a brief period of disorientation his brain processed what he was sensing: Adam's voice, anxious and plaintive. His body shaking beside Ronan. 

"…No…I didn't…I didn't do it!" When Ronan turned over he saw Adam, tossing and turning, his shoulders hunched and quivering. His hands were clasped over his head, slender fingers gripping his hair. His body was curled in a fetal position. Ronan's chest felt tight. 

Ronan tried to stay calm and take in what was happening. A nightmare. Ronan Lynch was no stranger to nightmares, but he was still somewhat of a stranger in Adam's bed (or mattress, technically), as they had only been sleeping together for about a month. Adam Parrish's nightmares were a new, daunting territory for Ronan.

Ronan would not want to be woken up from a nightmare in case he brought something dangerous with him into the waking world. Adam, however, (fortunately, in some ways) unable to take things from dreams and so such concerns were unnecessary. Ronan wanted to spare Adam the pain of whatever this dream was inflicting on him. 

Ronan grabbed Adam's bare shoulder gently. "Adam—"

"No…I never….please, please I'm sorry—"

Adam awoke with a startled gasp and stared up wide-eyed at Ronan as if he were a stranger. He started shaking and hyperventilating again. 

Ronan squeezed his shoulder gently in an attempt to ground him. "Hey, Adam, it's me. It's Ronan. It was just a dream. It was a nightmare." Now Adam seemed to slowly realize that he was awake, but he didn't seem aware that the nightmare was over. 

He covered his face again. His voice came through high-pitched and muffled. "No, no, he can't he can't please no…Ronan…no…Stay away….He'll….."

Something deep inside Ronan twisted painfully, followed by a flash of anger. He's dreaming about that day, he realized, the last day Adam's father laid a hand on him. Ronan had done his best to make sure it was the last day. He vowed to finish what he started if Adam's father ever tried to hit Adam again, or did so much as show his face around him. Staring at Adam's slim, shaking form, Ronan thought, I have to do something. He lay down so his face and Adams were level and hugged him gently, "Hey, it's okay," he whispered as if trying to calm a frightened animal. "It's okay, you're safe." Ronan felt Adams tense body relax slightly at the contact. He was still breathing too fast and saying "no no no no" over and over. 

In the dark, worry cutting through his fatigue, Ronan comforted Adam in a way he may not have felt courageous enough to do in the light. All the trappings of what Ronan Lynch was supposed to look like and sound like and drive like and talk like were beyond the walls of this small room. Here, Ronan let himself be a softer creature, though still a strange one. 

He hugged Adam tightly and started humming This is what he needs, he thought. Then he realized, Adam needs me. It was such a strange thing to realize, and yet the evidence was here: Ronan was the only thing keeping Adam's night horrors at bay.

He remembered of a song his mother used to sing to him when he was very young and became frightened at night, which was a regular occurence. It slipped from his mouth as easy as breathing; as easy as the language of his dreams.

_Mo ghaol, mo ghrá 'gus m'eadúil thú_  
_Mo stoirín úr is m'fhéirín thú_  
_Mo mhacán álainn scéimheach thú_  
_Chan fiú mé féin bheith 'd dháil_

_Alleluia, alleluia, alleluia, alleluia_

He repeated the gentle song (scratchily, a little off key, and in a much lower octave than this mother) until Adam fell asleep in his arms. When Ronan was able to sleep a long while after, it was an easy, dreamless sleep.


	2. The Morning After

Adam woke to the smell of food. Pancakes, he realized, head fuzzy from sleep. He still felt strangely unmoored waking up in the room he rented at St. Agnes'. Some mechanism in his mind had to to swing into place before he realized that he was not in his parents' double-wide; he was not waking up to screaming, shouting, broken things (human and inanimate)—

And then he remembered the dream. A warped reliving of the impact of fist on flesh, of falling down the stairs, of the pain in his ear, of cold, paralyzing fear: fear of what his father would do to Ronan, of what Ronan would do to his father— Ronan. Adam remembered the rest of the night. He hadn't been alone. Ronan was there, too with his firm, protective embrace, his surprisingly gentle touch, and the soft song he sang. Adam winced slightly as he recalled how vulnerable he had been. It wasn't something he was used to. But maybe it wasn't all bad.

He turned over and saw that he was alone on the mattress. A stab of anxiety. Had Ronan run off somewhere? The idea of that was more upsetting than it should have been. But then the awake part of his brain put Ronan and Pancakes together, the equation yielding Ronan bought me food. 

A twinge of guilt and shame mixed with the warm relief that flooded his chest when he saw Ronan. His was sitting cross-legged against the wall in the same jeans and black muscle t-shirt he had worn the day before. His large, expensive headphones were blasting shitty music into his ears loud enough that a small, tinny melodic buzz was audible. To Adam he almost looked like the same Ronan Lynch he had met when he entered Aglionby Academy: dangerous, strange, abrasive. It was not that those things were not true about Ronan. It was that Adam could see that there was more to him now.

Ronan gave Adam a smirk, though not an unfriendly one. "'Morning, sunshine," he said. 

Adam rolled his eyes. "What's that there?" he asked, though he already knew what was inside the plastic take-out bag that sat on the floor in front of Ronan.

"Breakfast," he said, pushing it towards Adam with his foot. A pause. Then: "the lady at the diner made a mistake. I ordered one shortstack but I didn't notice until later that she gave me two." 

Adam raised an eyebrow. "Why are there two boxes then?"

"Just eat it," Ronan said, not unkindly.

Adam sighed. He knew Ronan was lying, of course. It was a lame excuse. He wrestled for a moment with his hunger, his desire never to depend on Ronan (or Gansey, or anyone else) for money, even if they were…whatever this was; and the fact that if he did argue, Ronan might leave. He very much did not want Ronan to leave yet, and so he took a styrofoam box out of the bag. 

"Thanks," he said as he poured boysenberry syrup from a small plastic container over his pancakes. That was the real giveaway: Ronan knew boysenberry was his favorite and in the past had said he was "fucking weird" for liking it. 

"Don't mention it," Ronan said, digging into his own pancakes. "It'll hurt my reputation."

Adam raised his eyebrows. They ate their pancakes quietly, only asking each other simple questions. 

"Do you have work today?" Ronan asked, wiping some syrup off of his face with a thin paper napkin. 

"No, but I have to study later," Adam said. 

"Want to…do that together?" Ronan mumbled to his pancakes. 

It was true that due to Gansey's influence, Ronan had put more effort into his schoolwork lately, but not once since Adam knew him had Ronan volunteered to study. 

"I—uh. Really? Do you need help with something?" Adam asked. 

Ronan shrugged. "I dunno, maybe. Probably." 

Adam conceded that was likely to be true, except for Latin. Now that Adam knew that Ronan was the Greywaren, Ronan's unlikely skill in Latin finally made some sense. Before it had been a complete mystery. 

"All right, later then. 

Several minutes later, Adam was still working on his pancakes. When someone else bought food for him, he felt it was only polite to eat every bite. Ronan had already finished, and was very much not looking at Adam and had developed a curious interest in his shoelaces. Adam tried not to stare, though the visible bit of Ronan's tattoo caught his eye like it always did. The small room felt tense, though not how it did before those pointless fights they used to have, before their feelings for each other had become clear. Adam still didn't like it. 

When he finished his food, he placed the plastic fork and knife in the styrofoam box. "Is there something you want to talk about?" he asked Ronan pointedly. 

He knew Ronan knew what his nightmare had been about. He had seen and heard all of it. Adam figured they had better get the conversation over with. 

Ronan tensed. "No! I mean, uh… I dunno." A long pause. "Are you…okay?" he asked quietly. 

"I don't know," Adam said, eyes on the shabby carpet. "I mean, I'm doing better than last night, obviously."

"Yeah," Ronan said, not looking at Adam. "That's good." Another pause. "Do you have dreams like that a lot?"

"Less so since I left. This is the first time I had one since you started…staying over."

Ronan nodded, staring at his hands. After a moment, he looked up, his eyes on Adam. "Was I…was I good?" he said, uncharacteristically hesitant. 

Adam frowned. "What?"

Ronan swallowed. "When I tried to help…did I do it right?"

"Oh," Adam said, surprised and a little touched. Ronan was trying to take care of him. It was a strange notion, both because he was not used to being looked after and because Ronan was not usually all that nurturing. Chainsaw was probably the only other being to be on the receiving end of Ronan's more gentle side. "You did fine. Thank you."

"Oh, good," Ronan said. He fidgeted with the cord on his headphones. He checked his watch. "Well, I have to go check on Chainsaw," he said awkwardly. They both knew it was a poor excuse.

Adam nodded. He stood up from the mattress and picked up his clothes from the night before and pulled them on. He padded barefoot towards the door.

"Thank you," he said. "For…y'know."

"No problem." Ronan started to move towards the door, but then reconsidered, and turned back to give Adam a quick kiss before slipping out the door. 

Adam almost fell backwards, taken aback by the gesture. Blinking, he shook his head and walked towards the bathroom, feeling embarrassed, and warm, and scared and lucky.


	3. Ronan's Dilemma

_A goodbye kiss? Seriously?_ Ronan asked himself as he tore through Henrietta on his way to Monmouth Manufacturing. It was still fairly early and it was possible Gansey wouldn't notice that Ronan had been gone all night. _Gansey always notices. And Noah will if he's around,_ a small, reasonable voice said in his brain. Ronan ignored it. Frustrated, he punched the steering wheel. 

"Whatever," he growled. 

He really hoped he hadn't fucked this up. Ronan had never had a romantic relationship (is that what this was?) with anyone, though there had been a few one-time encounters with boys from Aglionby and the local high school. The times Ronan had with Adam were inherently different from those interactions—almost transactions, really—with the other boys. They came from pure animal want, and could happen because each knew he would be ruined if word got out that he was hooking up with other boys in the bathroom, or the locker room, or in a car—never the BMW, though. Maybe the other boy would lose his trust fund, maybe he would lose his friends. Ronan just knew he would rather die than have Declan find out. Aside from the issues Declan would definitely have with Ronan being with another boy, he would probably be more concerned with Ronan associating with someone "below him" socially. Ronan ground his teeth just thinking about it. _Declan can go piss up a rope,_ he thought. 

Being with Adam was different from anything else Ronan had experienced. He thought of the snow globe from the dollar store that Noah had loved so much. To an extent, Ronan realized he saw Adam the same way: beautiful and fragile. He knew that this was not entirely the right way to see him; that Adam was more than that, but at the same time he was still afraid of breaking him. Breaking things was something Ronan was good at. 

Ronan knew he was out of his depth but he didn't want to talk to anyone about it. Even if he wanted to, he couldn't. Adam and Ronan had agreed not to talk to their friends about Whatever They Were Doing yet.

_What would Gansey do?_ Ronan asked himself as he made the last turn before Monmouth. Gansey would show his concern plainly for all to see, constantly ask the person _what do you need?_ and in general try to be The Most Sensitive Person. This was the opposite of how Ronan operated: he was generally abrasive, sometimes insensitive on purpose, and kept his problems to himself when he could. He could never act exactly like Gansey, but maybe trying to be a little softer and careful with Adam wasn't the worst idea. 

As he pulled into his space in front of Monmouth, he noticed the Camaro parked nearby, the Camaro the Ronan had pulled perfectly from his dreams, even down to the epipen in the glove compartment. 

He started to pull himself out of the BMW and then stopped. Dreams. Epipen. Medicine. Maybe there was some kind of treatment for what happened to Adam? A medication to calm him down a little? 

Ronan grinned. _Maybe I can dream it._


	4. Dream Medicine

That night, Ronan's room was lit only by the blue light of his computer screen. He had already spent several hours Googling terms related to what Adam was going through while Chainsaw alternated between preening on his shoulder and pecking at various items in the cluttered room. The study session had been somewhat awkward and Ronan had left after only an hour, preoccupied by his dream project. He figured that wouldn't be too suspicious because Ronan's dislike of schoolwork was well-known.

He searched and scrolled, trying to get the words right for what he had seen the night before. Search terms like "dreams flashback" and "panic attack flashback" led him to a page about Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder:

"Post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD) is a mental health condition that's triggered by a terrifying event — either experiencing it or witnessing it. Symptoms may include flashbacks, nightmares and severe anxiety, as well as uncontrollable thoughts about the event.

Many people who go through traumatic events have difficulty adjusting and coping for a while, but they don't have PTSD — with time and good self-care, they usually get better. But if the symptoms get worse or last for months or even years and interfere with your functioning, you may have PTSD.

Getting effective treatment after PTSD symptoms develop can be critical to reduce symptoms and improve function."

Ah, there it is. The reason why Adam's dreams are so terribly bad. Ronan had had flashbacks after he found his father's body, but waking up screaming from a nightmare was par for the course for Ronan. He thought that it was probably different for Adam, probably worse. He reasoned that finding his father dead was something that had only happened to Ronan once, but if a person's whole life is bad enough to make them hyperventilate and panic in their sleep, it's a different story. Ronan reasoned that Adam was probably in the category of person whose symptoms "last for months or years" based on the terrible things he had survived.

Ronan scrolled through the treatments and found one that he could work with. He researched it exhaustively, looking for any risks and problems that he could think of. He looked up pictures, indications, interactions, studies, patient testimonials. When the time on his computer read 4:24 AM, he was ready. 

\--

Ronan awoke very early with the usual dizzying paralysis that followed his dreams. After a few minutes he realized he was holding a small cylindrical object in his right hand. After a few minutes he was able to turn to look at it. It was a clear orange prescription bottle with a white child-safe cap. 

The label read "LORAZEPAM 0.5 MG. TAKE 1 TABLET 1-2 TIMES DAILY AS NEEDED" as clearly as if a machine had printed it. All of the other necessary details were there: brand label from a local pharmacy, doctor's name and information smudged in a convincingly unsuspicious way, manufacturer's name, number of refills in case anyone found the pills and got curious. He was relieved to have gotten the outside right. But then there were still the pills themselves. 

He sat up at the edge of his bed, turning the bottle over and over in his hand. Chainsaw alighted on the bed next to him and cocked her head curiously. Ronan let her tap her beak gently on the cap but shooed her away after a moment. 

"These aren't for you," he said. It seemed that Chainsaw, a dream thing, was attracted to other dream things. He hoped the pills would be a good thing like she was. Once Chainsaw was a safe distance away, Ronan opened the bottle and took out a single pill. The tablets were white, round tablets. They were very small. They looked right, but was the chemical correct? Kavinsky used to dream pills, but he stole from dreams, and he didn't really care what happened to him when he took the pills. This was very different. Ronan had to know that the medicine was perfect before offering it to Adam. He had to make sure it wasn't harmful. He put the bottle carefully in the top drawer of his nightstand. He then took the pill and slipped it under his tongue; a tip some users on a PTSD message board suggested in order to make it work faster. 

At first Ronan didn't feel anything and just tasted the mildly sweet, chalkiness of the tablet. Soon, however, he was hit by a wave of warm, floaty calm. He lay back down on the bed and stared at the ceiling. He couldn't help but smile. He felt this warm, dizzy high because he wasn't having a panic attack, but he figured if he had been, it would have helped a lot. 

He would wait a day before bringing the pills to Adam in case the medicine was poisonous in some way, and. But the fact that the pill hadn't immediately made him ill felt like a victory. 

He looked over to Chainsaw who was perched on his desk chair. "I did it, Chainsaw! I did it." 

"Kerah!" said Chainsaw. Laughing to himself, Ronan rolled over and drifted off to sleep again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is where Ronan found his information on PTSD: http://www.mayoclinic.org/diseases-conditions/post-traumatic-stress-disorder/basics/definition/con-20022540
> 
> I'm not a doctor by any means but I have people in my life who are very close to me who have PTSD so this is true to my personal experience. I also have been prescribed Lorazepam (Ativan) for panic attacks and I am on the dose Ronan dreamed up for Adam. 
> 
> I DO NOT CONDONE TRYING A FRIEND'S MEDICATION. This is potentially very dangerous. Don't try most of what Ronan does, as a rule.


	5. Mo ghaol

The night after, Ronan and Adam lay in bed together in Adam's room. They faced each other, each still a little out of breath. 

"That was…amazing," Adam said, tracing Ronan's tattoo with his fingers.

Ronan just gave him a crooked grin. "You're not too awful yourself, Parrish." 

Adam punched his shoulder playfully. Ronan reached out and held Adam's face gently in his hand, thinking how glad he was that all his bruises had healed—though there was still the damage to his ear that would never go away. He gently touched the dark circle under one eye with his thumb. Adam's blue eyes were soft now, but sometimes one look could hit Ronan at his core. He kissed him deeply, Adam feeling electric and warm, and soft and—tentatively, Ronan, thought— _his._

What was this? What was this thing they were doing? Were they boyfriends? The word made Ronan want to wrinkle his nose. He didn't really want to call it anything, and sort of liked keeping it a secret. It felt more important that way. But at the same time what Ronan felt for Adam Parrish sometimes made him feel like he was going to burst. He had only felt this way in the inverse; hating himself and the world so much that it felt he was splitting down the seams. This was entirely different, the opposite, and he almost couldn't bear it. It was hard for him to even fully grasp how much he needed Adam, how much he wanted to protect him, how much light he brought to Ronan's world.

Ronan remembered the medicine. It was in the pocket of the jeans he had thrown off hastily an hour or so earlier. He had tried to think of ways to bring it up that didn't seem patronizing or intrusive, but in the end he just decided to wing it. 

Adam's brow furrowed slightly. "What is it?"

Ronan was suddenly pulled back into reality. "What?"

"What are you thinking about?"

It threw Ronan off how perceptive Adam could be, though he could be a stubborn idiot about his own life. "Um…it's…" Ronan was going to say "nothing," but that would have been a lie. "I have something for you," he said quietly. 

Adam raised an eyebrow. "Oh?"

"Uh, just let me get it," he said, and got out of bed. When he found his jeans he also put his boxer briefs on. He didn't mind being naked around Adam at all, and often very much enjoyed it, but for some reason he felt this was not a conversation he could have without any clothes on. He pulled the bottle out of the pocket and held it behind his back as he walked back to the mattress and sat on it facing Adam. 

"What d'you have there?" Adam asked, curious. "It's not even my birthday," he smirked. 

Ronan barely cracked a smile, avoiding Adam's gaze. Gotta bite the bullet, he told himself. He took a deep breath. 

"I dreamed this for you," he said and showed Adam the bottle. Adam frowned and took it from Ronan. He read the label. "Are these pills? Lorazepam, what is that?"

"It's a medicine to help you with your dreams and stuff. Like from the other night," he said nervously. He didn't know what he would do if Adam didn't want the pills, or if he hated them and hated Ronan for dreaming them. "I did research and they help with things like that. They help you come down from it." 

Adam was quiet, still staring at the bottle. "This looks…legitimate," he slowly. 

"Thanks, I guess." Ronan said, scratching his head. "They're safe, you know. I tried one and I'm fine, so I think they're good."

Adam's eyes widened. "You _tried_ one?"

Ronan shrugged. "Yeah, I had to make sure they were okay."

Adam was silent for a long time. Ronan was terrified, convinced that this was a terrible idea and would end their relationship and ruin everything—and then finally Adam spoke.

"Thank you, Ronan. I mean it. This is…a good thing you did," he said, voice thick with his Henrietta accent. "I don't know if I'll use them right away, but…I" 

Ronan was so relieved he could barely speak. "That's okay. I'm just glad you're okay with it."

"I'm more than okay with it," Adam said. His ears turned red. "I feel sort of special that you dreamed something for me." 

Before Ronan could reply, Adam was suddenly there, suddenly all over him, kissing him so many times so intensely that Ronan could barely think. The only thought in his mind was Yes. Yes. I did it. Warmth, safety and gratefulness overwhelmed him along with something that felt like hope. 

When the kiss ended they were somehow lying down again. Adam was staring at him in a way that was intense without him meaning it to be. 

"About the other night," Adam said. "That song you sang, what was it?"

Ronan rubbed a hand over his face. "Oh, uh, I thought you forgot about that."

"No. It was…nice. What was it?"

"It was something my mom used to sing. I don't really know what it's called," he said in a low voice. 

Adam took Ronan's hand in his, rubbing his thumb over his knuckles. Ronan was struck by how strangely elegant Adam's hands were. He's beautiful, Ronan thought, putting the feeling in words for the first time. 

"I'd like you to sing it, please" Adam said. "If you don't mind."

If it were anyone else, Ronan would mind very much. But Adam was Adam; that precious, wonderful, unknowable thing, so he began to sing:

_Mo ghaol, mo ghrá 'gus m'eadúil thú..._

When Adam was asleep, the final line of the song reverberated in Ronan's mind: _Chan fiú mé féin bheith 'd dháil. Myself not worthy to be in your company._ There was a part of Ronan that still felt this way about Adam, that he was not worthy of him; that his dark broken edges would hurt him and anyone who came too close. Slowly though as this thing—this relationship—grew, as he realized how much Adam wanted him back, the last line of the song rang less true than the first: _Mo ghaol, mo ghrá 'gus m'eadúil thú. You are my family, my love, and my treasure._ He wasn't sure he would ever say something like that to Adam but the feeling was there. 

_Maybe I can have this,_ he thought, listening to Adam's soft breathing. 

When Adam and Ronan slept that night, they only had good dreams.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! This is my first time writing Raven Cycle fic, so I really hope I got the characters' voices down right.

**Author's Note:**

> This is Celtic Woman's version of Ronan's song: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=d5OUWL_RpSY and here is where I got the lyrics and translation: http://www.irishgaelictranslator.com/translation/topic111221.html 
> 
> I have no knowledge of the Irish language so I apologize if any of that is wrong.
> 
> The word "suantraí" as I understand it, means "lullaby."


End file.
